Bright New World
by Glass.Paradox
Summary: What truly separates Light from Dark? As the consequences of the First War spin out of control, Harry finds himself in a world unlike anything he'd imagined. Can he save himself from a bleak reality, or will he abandon everything to a Brave New World? AU


Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR – I own none of this, and I'm not making any money for it.

Inspiration for the setting came from IP82's one-shot "Anything but Slytherin." If you haven't read it, go check it out, I definitely recommend it.

0o0o0

"Delosa! Get your Delosa here!"

My eyes widened as I stepped onto the platform. Everywhere, the air was full of cheery goodbyes and golden banners flapping in the breeze. For the first time I could remember, I realized, I was free - finally free of the Dursleys. I'd never have to see Vernon again. Well, not for a year, and to an eleven year old child that seemed an eternity away.

Everywhere, tearful mothers gave their children a last hug good-bye, or a last minute lecture on studying hard. My eyes jumped around the station, from the bright red train, to the meandering line in front of the Delosa stand, to a laughing Chinese girl, to… well, that was rather odd.

A line of sullen children filed onto the train, ignoring the others around them. Their tattered robes and silent march seemed out of place in the bright, laughter-filled station. I stared at them, a blonde girl in particular, catching the black tattoo across her forehead. A circle, but I couldn't quite tell wh-

"You're Harry Potter!"

My head swung around, catching a blur of red hair. I blinked at the gangly, freckled boy who'd seized my hand and was shaking it vigorously.

"An honor to meet, you, Paladin, it's a true honor. I can't believe you're in my year – we'll both be in Gryffindor, of course, my family's been Gryffindor for generations, and all my brothers have been red and gold, we're very proud, and well, you're _Harry Potter _ - you don't mind if I call you Harry, do you? We're going to be great friends, I'm sure – "

"Err… I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

The red-headed boy drew himself up and puffed out his chest. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, pleased to make your – " He spotted several friends in the crowd. "Oy, Fred, George, it's Harry Potter," he yelled, pointing at Harry.

Platform 9 ¾ fell silent, all eyes turning towards us. And then the clamor broke out.

"Paladin! Paladin Potter!" I shrunk back against the jostling crowds, holding Hedwig's cage tightly.

"Yes, yes, pleased to meet you," I said, trying to move towards the train. "If I could just get past…" I slipped on to the train and shoved his away a boy holding out a pen for an autograph. "I don't… I'm not giving out autographs," I stammered, turning and fleeing down the train.

Walking through the carriages, I tried to ignore the eyes of peering out into the hall. I got all the way to the end of the train looking for an empty room, tried to turn the last door, and realized it was locked.

"Hey! What'chu doing there?" A harsh voice called. I whirled around, reflexes honed by years of Vernon saying the same line.

"Nothing, I'm just – "

I watched two men in white robes approaching, wands drawn. Suddenly, one's eyes widened.

"Dawlish, that's _Harry Potter!" _ The one with a ponytail exclaimed. He extended his hand.

"It's…. truly an honor, Sir," he bowed his head. "If I may introduce myself, my name is Paladin Williamson. Paladin Dawlish and I are stationed at the school. It's a great privilege to say we'll be wards of the great Harry Potter."

His openmouthed partner stared openly, giving me a reverential salute.

I shuffled uncomfortably. "It's a pleasure. Look, could you open that door? I just wanted a carriage to myself…"

Dawlish snapped to attention. "It would be my pleasure to provide one for you, Sir," he said. "Just follow me."

"No, I don't want to trouble you; I'll just go through here…" I trailed off, seeing the two Paladins exchange looks.

"That's not a place for someone of your prestige," Williamson answered. "Those… they are hardly worthy of your company. Paladin Dawlish will provide you with whatever you need."

"I, well, alright."

Williamson saluted him, and slipped through the door, locking it shut. But not before I caught a glimpse of a terrified, hollow-eyed child inside. In retrospect, I wonder what happened to her – so many were lost in the Purge, but a few managed to get to the continent.

I followed Dawlish down the corridor. The Paladin pushed open a carriage door, barking "Everybody out! This is going to be Harry Potter's private carriage."

I looked into the cab and saw a trio of shocked girls. They each grabbed their bags and filed out, staring openly. Looking away, I wondered if my scar was truly that obvious. Thanking Dawlish, I wondered if I ought to give them the carriage back, but realized they'd already disappeared. Alone in the cabin, I looked at Hedwig and just shook my head.

"I don't think I'm ready for the celebrity," I murmured, stroking her head absently.

"I'm sorry?" A voice said from the doorway.

I looked up to see a bushy-haired brunette standing in the doorway. "_I'm _Hermione Granger. What's your name?" she asked imperiously.

I was so relieved she didn't want an autograph that I ignored her bossy tone.

"I'm Harry Potter. And this is Hedwig."

"Harry Potter? I've read about you, there's a whole _chapter _ on – "

I held up a hand. "Please, I really don't want to hear it."

Hermione scowled. "You've got ink on your shirt, you know."

0o0o0o0

I gulped as the doors swung open. My eyes darted around the hall, settling on a tall, stern-looking with a red bun.

Something gave me a twinge of unease… I glanced around. Perhaps it was the uneasy shuffling of some of my classmates. Some seemed confident, conversing loudly about past generations in certain houses.

Some of them seemed as lost as he felt, glancing around uncertainly. I looked at the Hermione. The only time she'd stopped talking about Hogwarts was to remind him to change into his robes, but now she looked a little nervous.

"Harry? What House do you want to go to?"

"I dunno. Paladin McGonagall told me my parents were in Gryffindor, so maybe there…" I replied, preoccupied with a dark-haired witch with a tattooed forehead. She was talking to a blonde friend, in a low voice, the two girls wearing identical masks of terror. I traced the black marks, realizing it wasn't a tattoo but an angry, puckered burn twisting her skin. A snake, circling around to devour its own tail, seared onto the waifs ashen skin. My stomach turned.

Hermione followed his gaze. "Well, maybe, or Ravenclaw. I can't imagine why they're so scared. All you have to do is wear a hat, and it tells you what House you go to. I read that in _Hogwarts, A History_." I guess she hadn't noticed the burn marks. Glancing around, I saw them – huddled together, desperate for reassurances, bearing the mark across their foreheads.

I shook my head, trying to focus on Hermione. "It's just a hat? Oh… I thought I heard someone say we'd have to fight a troll," Harry whispered in relief. "But – "

"All of you in line, now," the Professor called. "Hurry up."

She watched pointedly as we assembled. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest magical academy across Europe and Bastion of the Light. I am Professor Sinastra, your Deputy Headmistress; however, you will address me as Paladin. You will wait here while I address the other students, then the Sorting Ceremony may begin."

Two wizards in white strode into the hall, their robes carrying a subtle glow. Sinastra gestured to them, adding, "Paladins Dawlish and Williamson will observe."

I recognized them, but started as the men gave him a small salute. I really _wasn't used_ to his celebrity status.

"What'chu looking at?" Dawlish whirled on a skinny boy in threadbare robes. The boy shrunk back, looking down and murmuring to himself.

"Hey, what'd you say to me?" The Paladin grabbed the boy's arms, pulling him out of line.

"_Dawlish._" Williamson said, voice bored. "Make sure you follow the handbook this time."

"Yeah, yeah…" Dawlish turned his attention back to the boy. "What're you muttering?" He shook him roughly. "Wearing the Brand, huh? What's your name, hmmm?"

"It was nothing, Sir." A boy near me stepped out of line – I hadn't really noticed him up to that moment. "He didn't intend any disrespect." He, too, bore the black Brand across his head, partly obscured by floppy blonde hair.

"Not going to answer? Pathetic." Dawlish shoved the silent boy to the floor, clearly losing interest. "And what's your name?" he sneered.

"Draco Malfoy, Ministry Ward, son of convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, currently in New Azkaban, and convicted Death Eater Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, deceased," he recited precisely.

"Draco Malfoy?" Dawlish's mouth split into a grin, twisting the red claw mark running down his cheek. "Hey, Williamson, this here's Draco Malfoy!"

"Oh?" Williamson drifted over. "Well, would you look at that?" he drawled. He glanced at the scrawny boy Malfoy had defended. "What are you still doing there? Get back in line," he snapped.

He turned his attention back to Malfoy. "Tell me, snake-spawn, you want me to tell you how your mother died?" His voice was quiet, menacing.

"I was… present," Malfoy answered evenly.

Williamson leaned back. "Oh, yeah, you were, weren't you? I'd forgotten."

Dawlish laughed. "And you'll get to watch your Daddy die to – I'll do you a personal favor, punk. Make sure you get the cell across from him in New Azkaban."

Malfoy flinched. "I've publicly apologized for his crimes."

The Paladin's eyes narrowed. "I'll bet you did. All you little snake-spawn do. But you know what? Blood runs thicker than water. Do you know how much blood Lucius Malfoy spilled? A couple of my friends got hit taking him down."

I saw Malfoy tense, and winced out of habit. I knew that stance all too well – I'd been in the same position more times than I liked to remember. Malfoy was waiting for the inevitable beating.

Dawlish's voice rose. "All of you'll be the same as your parents. You know, I supported the Lasting Peace Act – we should have just offed all of you, ended all the Dark lines. But it'll happen anyway, don't worry. The lot of you'll be Slytherin, and once you're in the Factory, there's no– "

"Dawlish!" Sinastra barked. She glared pointedly at him, allowing Malfoy to slip back in line. I thought I caught the slightest flash of anger, before his face slipped into an impassive mask.

"The Sorting Ceremony will now begin." The doors swung open, revealing the Great Hall. I gasped, seeing a dozen ghosts sweeping across the hall filled by three tables of cheering students.

Sinastra unfurled a scroll, watched pointedly by Headmistress McGonagall. I hadn't thought it would be possible, but she looked even sterner than she had when she'd arrived at Privet Drive to give me my Hogwarts letter.

"Abbot, Hannah." A blonde girl with pigtails walked forward, and, a little nervously, placed the hat on her head. For a tense moment, it was quiet, before calling "Hufflepuff!"

Applause broke out at a table decked in yellow and black banners.

Disconcerted, I waited, watching Susan Bones be sorted. I realized the dark-haired girl I'd seen earlier was crying quietly. "Tracey!" her friend whispered. "Pull it together. You're going to lose Gryffindor for sure."

"Crabbe, Vincent."

Suddenly, the hall fell silent. A skinny boy inched forward – the same one, I realized, who Dawlish had shoved around.

He hesitated, Hat in hand, and then looked at Dawlish's sneering face. Closing his eyes tightly, he lifted the hat onto his scraggly hair. The hall held its breath, waiting for –

"Hufflepuff!" The hat announced.

Crabbe deflated in relief. I heard some tepid applause from the yellow table, before realizing Crabbe's shoulders were shaking. The boy sat at the end of the table, watching the line move on.

My eyes met Hermione's, wide. She looked past me, seeing 'Tracy' sobbing. "But… it's only a hat," she whispered in confusion. Distracted, I only shrugged, hearing McGonagall call for a "Davis, Tracey." The girl collapsed into tears as the hat yelled "Ravenclaw." A prefect dragged her by the arm to their table, where she buried her head in her arms.

"Granger, Hermione."

She jumped. I gave her a quick smile for luck.

The hat was silent for a long moment before crying… "Gryffindor!"

As the group of students thinned, I waited, not yet understanding how significant those choices were. I ignored a cheery wink from Ron, the redhead, and a spiteful glare from a sallow-faced girl with a Brand.

"Parknison, Pansy." The sallow-faced girl marched to the stool. She breathed in as the Sorting Hat settled onto her dark hair, then her eyes widened.

"Slytherin!" it announced.

Pansy ripped the hat from her head, screaming that there must have been a mistake. Dawlish grabbed her roughly, pinning her arms to her sides.

"No, no!" she screeched. "It's wrong, it has to be." Her voice reverberated in the silent Hall, all the students watching wordlessly. Desperately, she tried to tug away from the Paladin, falling before the Headmistress. "Please, _please_, let me be resorted, I'll do anything, please Paladin, I'll – "

Dawlish punched her across the face. "How dare you use that title," he growled, livid.

"Oh, Merlin, please, don't send me to the Factory, please, just give me one more chance, just one - "

McGonagall watched impassively. "Take her away," she directed. Pansy screamed, lunging at her. "No, no, this is a mistake! I'm smart, I study, I can be a Ravenclaw, please, _please…" _

Dawlish dragged her out of the Hall, ignoring her pleading. Harry looked around, seeing most of the students wearing stony faces. Some of the Brands looked sick, others terrified. McGonagall cleared her throat. My eyes watched her, kicking, crying, clawing, frantic, begging for a second chance…

"Perks, Sally-Ann." Sally-Ann walked forward, clearly trying to ignore the screaming girl being dragged through the door. Her voice faded away, but I could feel it still, hanging heavy in the silence.

"Potter, Harry."

The Hall erupted into applause, as though the begging Pansy had simply been forgotten. I stepped forward, almost wanting to turn away. Nearly sick, I heard a chant starting – "Potter, Potter, Potter."

Unconsciously, I walked forward and lifted the hat to my head. Steeling my will, I let my fingers uncurl. It fell silently onto my mop of unruly hair.

_Hmm… This could go two ways. Lots of bravery, but lots of ambition too. Gryffindor and Slytherin, that's a rare combination m'boy._

_ Oh God, not Slytherin, _I thought. _"Please, anything but Slytherin."_

_All of you say that, _the Hat sighed. _I do my best, you know – if you fit anywhere else, I'll let you go there. But sometimes, people are just Slytherin through-and-through and I'm made to say it. _

_ Look, you said there were two ways, _I answered, praying to all the Gods I never really believed in, but hoped to Hell were paying attention. _For Chrissake, just don't send me to Slytherin. _

_ Can't really blame you. I guess it'll have to be… _

"Gryffindor!"

The red and gold table filled the hall with cheering, but I still heard the wistful voice say _"Good luck, Harry Potter. I imagine you'll need it."_

I walked towards the Gryffindor table, head reeling. _What am I getting into? This could be worse than the Dursleys._ No – _nothing _was worse than the Dursleys. Hermione was sitting away from the crowd, at the end of the table, looking horrified. I sat next to her, following her gaze to the end of the Gryffindor table where Malfoy and 'Greengrass, Daphne,' were sitting. The pair was stoically watching each 1st year sorted, the girls fingers clenched on the tablecloth.

"_Jesus Christ…_ What _was _that?" I breathed.

Hermione shook her head, looking nauseated. "I'd read that… but I can't imagine what the – and I never thought, I mean, she was our age," she stammered. I nodded silently, deciding it'd be better to ask when she was calmer.

Seeing Dawlish return calmly and silently to the hall, I shuddered. "Hufflepuff," the Hat announced, sorting the last student (Zabini, Blaise). Dawlish' mouth soured, and even Williamson seemed a little disappointed. I glanced at Malfoy, who sighed softly. Daphne closed her eyes in silent relief.

McGonagall began her welcoming speech, talking about the merits of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. But I couldn't pay attention – I kept seeing her blank, uncaring face as "Parkinson, Pansy," was dragged screaming to her fate. Hogwarts was _not_ what I'd been expecting.

The Headmistress snapped her fingers, and food appeared on golden. Hermione looked at a heaping pile of potatoes with gravy, then shook her head and pushed her plate away, just as McGonagall concluded her speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

A/N:

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Kudos to anyone who caught the Huxley tribute.

As you can tell, the world will be AU, and this fic will not be following canon very faithfully. Also, there's going to be a lot of OOC-ness; I'm admitting that up-front. But as the story expands you'll see why – the circumstances that shaped their characters in canon simply aren't the same.

Please review, I'd really like to hear your reactions, suggestions, and criticism.

~Echo


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